


Per Inferno Ad Astra

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Ravage Anthology, Symbolism, dante's inferno, transcendence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: Hannibal has some unfinished business before he can truly cross the threshold to a new life. And he has a partner to help him make the final step.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Per Inferno Ad Astra

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the magnificent _Ravage Anthology_. I hope You like it!

_I'm leaving what I broke down  
A firestorm is coming around  
the sky is painted in red  
falling down without a sound.  
I'm running through the streets, to the edge of the town._

Mads Langer – “Satellites”

We see him wake up in the middle of the night, startled. We cannot see the nightmares of his psyche nor can we enter his mind palace – he allows only one person in – but we imagine his must be most terrifying dreams. After all, the man capable of most vile acts, according to the majority of the population, would not be easily frightened. What terrifying images lurk in the shadows of the corners of Hannibal Lecter’s mind? Does he see his bloody hands strangling the man asleep next to him? Or is he the one being strangled? Betrayed, once again, by the one who was meant to be the other side of his coin? 

His heartbeat and breath slowly regain stability as he seems to be registering his surroundings. Let us now withdraw from the room and observe the lovers in crime from behind the window which seems to be a safer place at the moment. 

* * *

Fire set off the alarm. Neighbours gathered by the windows. Everyone gaped at the flames consuming the beautiful house. What a shame! Then, some of those awake gasped. Was the famous doctor there? Would help arrive on time? The flames were high and quick to devour the walls. Smoke was leaving the ruins and flew up, creating a veil over the night sky.

* * *

Doctor du Maurier would not answer her phone. Even when Jack was informed that Bedelia’s body had not been found inside what used to be her home, he knew she was no longer alive. It was a punishment. Du Maurier’s phone was traced soon after and no one was under any illusions. After Jack had been offered a quick, preliminary report of the scene, he was ready to leave. 

* * *

Her blonde hair was falling off the table. Her left leg was missing. Her body was clothed in a stunning navy blue low-cut dress which showed off her cleavage. Bedelia du Maurier looked like she was sleeping. 

Jack scanned the room but found no other clues or hints. It was more than certain as to who was responsible for the whole scene. There she was, Hannibal Lecter’s former psychiatrist, offered as if on a silver plate in Hannibal Lecter’s former house in Baltimore. Then, Jack noticed that there was, indeed, a plate under doctor du Maurier’s head. That was the price of her pride and interference. 

The forensics established that doctor du Maurier had been killed peacefully. As much as it was possible, anyway. But there were bruises on her wrists, which indicated a struggle. Her last fight, Jack thought and already then anticipated his own last fight. 

* * *

Finding Jack Crawford was not at all difficult. After Bedelia’s body had been found, it was only a matter of time before the head of the Behavioural Science Unit would reopen the never-really-closed investigation and resume the pursuit of now two fugitives. Crawford crossed the border of the States only a couple of weeks after Hannibal and Will had. Whether it was a hunch or a fluke, when Crawford’s face flashed between the vegetable stalls one day, Hannibal knew what was coming. 

“Well, that was quick,” Will said, while sipping a margarita. He was looking out the window at the bowl with food he’d left by the fence. He had been feeding stray animals since he felt well enough to roll out of bed, even when his every step was accompanied by grunting and wincing. 

“We left him an invitation. It’s no surprise he responded the way he did.”

“Everything according to plan,” Will dragged the sentence until it rang in his ears and sounded like something said by someone else.

“He’s the only remaining part of our past that’s holding us back.” 

Will gaped at the empty glass for a whole minute before he reached for the jug to pour himself another drink. Crawford was not the kind of man who should be ignored. It did not matter whether he had found Will and Hannibal by chance or purposefully. At that point, it did not even matter if he was aware that he had appeared on their itinerary. The fact that he did presented a perfect opportunity to make him disappear from their path forever. However strong the sentiment, they could not afford for the man to haunt them any longer. 

“Tonight?” Will asked and put down the glass. 

Hannibal looked at the clear cloudless sky, already imagining what the night would be like. At that latitude, following the forecast was unnecessary. A rainy evening was more than likely at that time of year.

“Tonight,” Hannibal confirmed.

* * *

Jack wiped his face, then resumed fanning it. The evening was still hot and humid, and the rain was still hanging heavily in the air. It was a matter of an hour at most before it would pour. 

Hannibal smiled at the sight of an old friend and the irony that it was thanks to him that Jack had the opportunity to enjoy expensive trips. Shame this one was going to be Jack’s last. 

From his seat by a small round table Crawford had a view of the whole square. There were people chatting, taking pictures, even dancing. The sweet smell of fresh fruit wafted all around, inviting the tourists to sit down and try the local cuisine. How fitting for a self-made chef like Hannibal Lecter. 

Just as Jack was checking the time, a familiar face flashed in a distance. Hannibal was far enough to be outside the sphere of Jack’s immediate reaction but close enough to be recognised. Not surprisingly, Crawford quickly scanned the area in search for Will, hoping not to lose sight of Lecter in the process. 

Hannibal smiled warmly, then looked up at the increasingly dark sky. Jack was about to leave the money for his drink and head towards Lecter when a piece of paper landed on his table. The hand that had dropped it had a gold ring on it. Jack’s eyes moved up, along the arm, until they reached the head with shoulder-length curls. Will was heading towards Hannibal, who put his arm around Will’s waist as soon as they re-joined. They didn’t even bother to turn and watch Jack unfold the piece of paper and read the note. 

_The devil you’re looking for found you first. Enjoy the evening._

An address followed. Hannibal made it too easy a game. Perhaps, because it wasn’t a game anymore. It wasn’t a hunt. It was an execution. 

* * *

Hannibal was sitting by a desk with his back to the front door. His hand was sketching a model in a particular pose: it was a man with his arms outstretched and eagle’s feathers handing down from them. The breath-taking vision overtook Hannibal’s mind. The sketch was one of the first steps in the convoluted work in progress that was murder.

Hannibal could feel Will’s eyes on him. Hidden in the shadows of the night in the room’s corner, his partner was preparing, too. The clogs of that powerful machinery that was Will’s mind were turning, envisaging the graceful death they were about to perform. 

Of course, it was not impossible for Jack to bring back-up but they expected him rather to bring a gun or two and possibly a partner to even out the odds. But who would come with Jack on a suicide mission? They were outside the FBI’s jurisdiction. No one in the right state of mind would sanction an operation like that. Even if it meant getting Hannibal the Cannibal himself. And his Murder Husband, whose reputation was getting more and more unsavoury. 

Then, the front door opened with barely more than a whisper. Even the floor, as old as it may have been, did not creak. Still, Jack’s presence was palpable, as was the presence of death in the room.

“It was simply far too tempting, wasn’t it, Jack?” 

Hannibal turned to face Crawford. He wanted to have one last look at the one man who was so close to catching him, who had caught him in fact, while the man was still disentangled from Hannibal’s vision. Then, his gaze shifted to a spot right behind Jack. He watched barefoot Will sneak behind their prey and place a gauze over Jack’s mouth. Hannibal devoted a split second to simply staring at that magnificent sight before he caught Jack as the man fell down unconscious. 

* * *

Hannibal placed a cup of tea in front of Will, then sat down in the opposite seat with his own cup. His faint smile widened as he looked at Jack, who was slowly coming back to his senses. 

“Tell me, Jack, do you regret going to that classroom and dragging Will out of it? Do you ever imagine what your life would have looked like had you not entered my office?” Hannibal asked as he sipped his tea carefully.

“You’ve had me once,” Crawford noted, at which Hannibal’s smile turned into a teeth-revealing grin. 

“As have you.” 

“And we both escaped our fates for a while.”

Hannibal had always liked Jack’s honesty and a kind of inferior quality with regard to his wit. If it had not been for Will, perhaps it would have been Crawford who would have become his project. He had already been toying with Jack by stealing his once favourite pony, Miss Lass. By dragging Will away, too, he had made Crawford his voodoo doll which he kept pricking with needles. 

“You were there when the seals were being opened. Yet, the Lamb’s retribution did not touch you,” Hannibal remarked and noticed a sense of regret in the way Jack turned his eyes towards Will. 

“Do you hold me responsible?” Jack’s question was obviously directed for Will, completely ignoring Hannibal’s presence and the impact he had had on everyone around him. The fact that he acted as the one in charge of the bizarre tandem did not mean that Will was not actively participating in the staged re-enactment of an awfully familiar scene. 

“You’re a desperate man, Jack.” Will responded at last.

Crawford closed his eyes and shook his head. He looked like an exhausted man. Once again the men were seated by a table, a dinner for three, and this time it would finally bring a conclusion to their relationship. How many times could history repeat itself and present a man with missed opportunities? 

“They’ll never stop chasing you,” Jack warned without any real conviction in his voice. Then, as if grown aware of an extremely significant and obvious fact, he asked, “Are you going to make a display out of me?” 

Hannibal’s eyes found Will’s while his hand reached blindly for a knife. As he carved the meat, Hannibal used his sense of touch intuitively; he had done it so many times he could do it blindfolded. 

“The question is: do you want to be displayed? Become a symbol of the infinite pursuit of justice. Jack Crawford – the only selfless clog in the corrupt machinery.”

Jack’s head hung down. Hannibal imagined the reason for Crawford’s anxiety was the place of death rather than the act itself. Regardless of everything, Jack wanted to be with Bella, even after the departure from this world. 

“Your glory will outlast your mortal form,” Hannibal reassured as he put down the cup of tea. As if on cue, both he and Will stood up from their seats. They exchanged a knowing look and turned towards Crawford. 

* * *

Hannibal paid attention to the road but in the corner of his eye he managed to spot Will’s hand reaching for the radio knob. The channels with blasting, annoying music switched, creating a kaleidoscopic mosaic of sounds that were too short and indistinct to be memorable. Hannibal was going to miss Cuban music and food and weather.

Almost an hour later, as he and Will were leaving the island, Hannibal could not help glancing at the spot where they had left Crawford’s new form. When they were still low enough above the ground, it was possible to pinpoint the exact place. It would forever remain in one of the rooms of Hannibal’s memory palace. 

At the time of their take-off, Jack Crawford’s body was hanging a mere meter above the ground, supported by the ropes under the remains of his arms and clothed in the American flag – his new skin: stars and stripes like tattoos. The arms were removed clean-cut and replaced with the eagle’s wings. As the wind blew, it gently nudged the feathers, setting them into a lazy, unsteady rhythm. 

Jack Crawford became his own badge – the symbol of the lawful justice. Any attempt at pursuing Hannibal and Will was doomed to end in failure if not inevitable death of the brave soul who decided to make it. So had been Jack’s. Hannibal believed he was doing the man a favour by ceasing the endless, conclusion less game of cat and mouse at its peak. He could not have hoped for a better occasion.

Suddenly, Hannibal felt Will’s hand squeeze his, which made him turn away from the small window in the private jet and look at Will’s face. He thought that the wound in his cheek had healed nicely but the unmistakable scar would forever mark him as the one who had defeated the Dragon. Well, one of the two.

* * *

We see him fast asleep. It is well after midnight: the sky is clear, thousands of silver spots twinkling on it. The air is calm. There is no wind. Barely any sound can be heard from a distance. Yet, the apparent silence conceals plenty of minute sounds: the predator’s paws gently scratching the ground, the twitching of the prey’s whiskers – the nocturnal animals are enjoying their night life. 

We see Hannibal’s rested face, devoid of worry or anguish. Next to him – his partner in crime, his lover, his friend. These are the few moments the monster becomes human – as much as it is possible, anyway – the version of himself which remains unaware of the ruthlessness and cruelty of the world. He becomes the other side of his coin. Sound asleep Hannibal lacks the refinement and charm that the wide-awake Hannibal possesses, yet he is the safest version to be around if you are not Will Graham. And even then… 

Let us leave before the dawn approaches and a charming beast reigns supreme again.


End file.
